Yo! on these seventy three keys, of ivory and ebonyI swear solemnly that i'll forever rock steadilyPeople wanna know where malik? he right next to meThe weaponry, the secret recipeHard to peep this, deep shit, shows i eat withContaminated thoughts i walk the street withI bayonnet cassettes and chop beats withThis olympic lyricism you can't, compete withGlobe travellin', throwin' your verse like a javelinThings fall apart and mc's unravellin'

Backstage whisperin' to management like"change the order, it's no way that we can rock after them"My man sport the 'fro like "what's happenin?"From the latest hiatus, the roots back againYour crew practicin' to catch this natural blendThey packages read 'care when handlin'''It's all soft shit, batteries not included withMatter of fact, your whole front's a re-enactmentI blow your batty ass into fragments, p 5 dThe new testament, mic specialist, what?

The milli illitant tant, 'pon cock, ready to rockPower out, in the clout, it seems out, all through your blockPosse don't play the cut, but what, you get sheistGot the personality named trife, ready to heistSmashin 'graphs, snatch the ice, crush your mental deviceThought twice, shoulda thought once, got played for the dunceDialogues i moderate, cool out, we outta stateJust blendin' in the great, give me room to ventilateMost niggaz is fraudulent, the rap seargeantBargin', through your regiment, call your presidentHittin' all targets 'cuz it's a cause that's lost

Between the killers when they probably teddy ruxpin talkDroppin' tears of steel, two drops up in the bucketFacin' three hots and a cop so yo fuck itIf i get abducted, trapped up in the bellyWacked up my celly, get known like dawn stanleyYou know the deally on the daily in the quint it upIf i sense you got a bend to your kite, then send it upWe press up on your corner with windows they're tinted upLay our props face down on the ground and get it up, what?Face on the ground and get it up

While you pose for pictures, i'm the invisible enigmaDown low, scope you off the roof like the fiddlerCage you up in the vocal booth, you're held prisonerWatch, while i'm bangin' out this hot shit from sigmaIlla del p a, live without a djAnd it's been that way, since sergio vallenteYo, the roots holdin' it down, is all you can sayPlus the black thought mc, professionallyPush pen to paper like chinua achebe